Delicate Touch
by Sally Mn
Summary: The thirty days are up... someone has to talk to Ezra and Buck thinks he's the man for the job.


_**Delicate Touch**_

Buck hates Solitaire.

But he's been sittin' in the near-empty saloon, watching Ezra play for nearly an hour now. It's four weeks since they took on the job of keeping peace in this dusty little hell-hole - twenty-eight days for twenty-eight dollars each - and the Judge is due back on the thirtieth day. They all know the Judge will want them to stay, for how long is any man's guess, but for a little bit... and he knows that the rest of them are goin' to stay.

Well, more like they're _not_ plannin' to go just yet... not the same thing. But it's close enough for the man who's paying them. Close enough for the daughter-in-law who's busy writing how safe it's gonna be for decent folks now. Close enough for lives to start building, rebuilding, whatever.

Even though nobody's said so, they all know that, they all know what six of 'em are gonna - are plannin' - to do. But none of 'em know what their seventh, their own little wild fox, is up to.

Oh, they've tried to find out. Josiah - maybe the only one who can take Ezra when he's talkin' up a storm and sayin' damn all - well, he's tried to pin the man down, but ended up with a bear-sized pain in the head, care of their gambler-sized pain in the ass. Vin, who's a damn sight sneakier than he looks, tried _not_ askin', a pretty good idea knowin' Ezra's love of attention... but no, for once, the damn contrary bastard has no problem not answerin' questions he ain't bein' asked. And Nathan acts like he don't care - acts it so much that everyone, even Ezra, knows he cares a whole heap.

JD tries what the kid probably thinks is subtle hinting - well, as subtle as a dynamite blast up the ass - and puppy-dog eyes, but the fact that he was the one who jailed Ezra in the first place sorta gets in the way, or rather Ezra throws it in the way every chance he gets.

God only knows what Chris is thinkin', but then God was most likely the only one who heard that "don't ever run out on me again," back at the village. God and the two of them, Chris and Ez.

And Buck. He heard it too, but he ain't stupid enough to let the two of them know that.

Situation like this needs a delicate touch, and Buck figures he's the man when delicate's called for. So now he's sittin' here watching Ezra cheat at Solitaire, so he can have _his_ go at talkin' the man into stayin'.

Ezra finally sends a weary glance his way, and lays down what even Buck can tell is the wrong card. "Is there anything I can assist you with, Mister Wilmington?"

He blinks, and tries to look innocent, something he hasn't managed in years. From Ezra's expression he ain't doin' too well at it now. "Nope. I'm fine, Ez, jist fine."

"Then don't you have something better to occupy your valuable time with? I'm sure if you ask him, Chris Larabee can find a suitably violent way to earn our wages, exorbitant as they are." Ezra shudders. "We cannot have the Honorable Judge Travis's funds wasted, after all.

"Or even more vital, one of the ladies of the town might find herself bereft of company for oh," he flicks another card over, "ten minutes." He pauses, staring down at the card.

"On the black ten." Buck offers.

"Thank you, I would never have noticed."

"Well, you ain't exactly payin' attention, are you?"

"Your powers of observation astound me, Mister Wilmington."

"So why ain't you?"

A small half-smile quirks the corners of the other man's mouth. That, Buck thinks, is better than the big, shit-eating, plain old fake grins Ezra's been spreadin' around for the last few days along with the mess of wordy words he always hides behind.

"I hardly need to, do I? You're assisting me so admirably... so what is it you want to enquire of me?"

"Hell, do I need to want somethin'?"

There's a pause, as Ezra's eye flick up, then down again. "No," he says softly, "Perhaps not in your case. But you do, don't you?"

Buck shrugs. "Just thinkin' that the Judge'll be here Friday. You given a thought to what you're gonna do then?"

"Thank him graciously for the pardon he'll be carrying, of course." Ezra shuffles again, supple hands moving so fast and graceful-like the cards seem to be flying. "A gentleman always -"

"Y'ain't a gentleman, Ezra."

The hands freeze.

"Y'do a damned good job of playin' one, though. Never did find out what that pardon was for, now I think on it... not that it matters," he shrugs, "if'n the Judge and Chris are okay with it."

"Chris doesn't -"

"Yeah, he does, Ezra. Y'think he wouldn't make the Judge tell him?"

"Travis didn't." A pause, and a sigh. "I enlightened our self-elected leader myself."

"What?"

Ezra shrugs. "Bettah that way than dear, meddlesome Miz Travis telling him. And if you find it necessitous -"

"Nah, not my business." In fact, he wants to know so badly he has to bite down on the question, but cornering a wild fox is never a good idea. "Just thinkin'-"

"Please, don't strain yourself."

"Funny, Ez. Thinkin', we could have a good thing here, the seven of us."

Another sigh, and there's a clear sign in the green eyes that Ezra is three steps ahead of him. 'Course, given the ham-fisted way the others had gone about it, Buck isn't surprised. A delicate touch, yep, that's what's needed here, and that's one thing Buck has. Ask any lady in any town in the territory. "Money ain't good, I'll grant ya."

Ezra snorts. "Good? Hell Buck, I can make more in one night in Saint Louis than all seven of us will earn in a year."

That stings, jist a speck. "There's gamblin' to be had here too."

"My my, how could I forget the largesse you gentleman lay down every game? And the cowboys, farmers and ranch hands that this... scintillating metropolis attracts." Ezra lays down another card, the ace of spades, stares at it for a moment, then sweeps them all up into his hands again. "Maybe I can't afford to stay, Buck."

"Mebbe. And mebbe you can afford it better than you think." Delicate touch be damned, Ezra ain't no lady either. "C'mon Ezra, you can't say it hasn't been fun."

"Goodness no, how can anything beat bein' shot at, combated, disrespected and generally risking our lives for the betterment of all?"

Buck isn't fooled, but beams at him anyway. "That's what I say!" Another pause. "Well, in diff'rent words an' all. It's a good thing that we got here, more or less, we just need all of us to make it work right."

"You've been talking to Josiah again, haven't you?"

"More he's been talkin' at me." Yep, that got another half-smile, a glint of gold tooth and all. "Mind you, he's got a point. They couldn't 'ave brought in Lucas James without the pair of us, an' that's a fact."

Ezra licks his lips, an odd and not-to-be-mentioned-if-Buck-wants-to-live sign of nerves. He obviously ain't used to bein' wanted... well, yeah he _has_ been wanted, all too often - just not this way, not like the town and the seven and the Judge want him now. "Ah... I haven't even said I'm leaving, Buck."

"Ya haven't said you're stayin', either."

"I always follow the main chance, I always have and always will. This..." He waves a hand out at the dirt track that is Four Corner's main street.

"Mebbe this _is_ a chance, Ezra. For Chris, and for Nate an' Josiah, and God knows for me an' JD. Not so sure 'bout Vin... but I got an idea he's gonna take a chance on us. Hate t'think you were the only one who, well, choked on the chance..." He stops at the short, sharp bark of laughter.

"Oh lord," Ezra chokes on the words, "that's bad, Mister Wilmington. Absolutely abysmal, in fact." He wipes his eyes theatrically. "Mah compliments, that's even worse than Josiah's dramatic piece about our joint destiny."

Buck wonders for a moment whether to be affronted, decides it's too much work - hell, if Larabee hasn't managed in all the years to affront him, Ez hasn't a chance - and grins. "Is it bad enough to work, then?"

The laughter stops, and Ezra stares at him. He knows he's confusing the man - which feels good, after the times Ezra's confused the tarnation outa him - and that it's time to back off, let the wild fox think he's free t'run. "Look, I gotta go. Like you said, there's gotta be a lady somewhere who's - what's that word you used?"

"Bereft," Ezra supplies with dazed, dry irony.

"Yep, that's a damn good word f'it. Bereft, and I need ta make sure she's unberefted right soon. Just..." He trails off, trying to think of the words, then shrugs. "Just a little longer, if the Judge asks us. Think about it, Ez."

"I've thought of little else," the words are soft, embarrassed, and he'll deny them to his dying breath, "for the last twenty-eight days."

There's a warm glow somewhere around Buck's heart. Hell, it wouldn't be the same without Standish, without all of 'em. And now he's sure all of 'em will stay, just a little longer.

He aims a vague pat in the direction of Ezra's shoulder, sends a quick, cheerful nod to the dark, silent figure sitting in one corner, and heads out into the sunshine. Damn it, that delicate touch works every time...

**- the end -**


End file.
